


Winter Cold

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Hateful Sansa, Incest, Jon's POV, NOT Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, POV Second Person, Prince Rickon, Queen Sansa, Queen in the North, Sansa-centric, Sibling Incest, Unrequited Love, Winterfell, crypts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stares at you for a long moment, her eyes dark and hateful and for a moment you wonder if she still regards you as nothing more then her bastard brother. It isn’t until she speaks your name that you realize the truth, that she doesn’t know how to be anything other then hateful anymore. You realize she’s seen too much to ever be happy again and a part of you breaks inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Illyana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyana/gifts), [katie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie/gifts), [Aspou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspou/gifts).



> I decided to gift this to all my fellow Robb/Sansa lovers, decided to try it a little different. Let me know what you think.

You don’t know what to do when you see her again for the first time. Sansa looks nothing like the girl you knew in your youth. She stands imposing and beautiful on the platform that holds her throne. She wears Robb’s crown of bronze and iron swords on her head and you wonder if it was ever meant for Robb by how perfectly it fits her. Robb is dead; Bran and Arya are lost, leaving only you, Rickon, and her as the last of your family. You expect to scoop her up in your arms and kiss her hair and cheeks, but you don’t. She looks too different.

 

She stares at you for a long moment, her eyes dark and hateful and for a moment you wonder if she still regards you as nothing more then her bastard brother. It isn’t until she speaks your name that you realize the truth, that she doesn’t know how to be anything other then hateful anymore. You realize she’s seen too much to ever be happy again and a part of you breaks inside.

 

She gives you a room and a position in the castle before dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

 

One of her handmaidens leads you to your chamber and she doesn’t need to be asked before she starts telling you what you need to know. She tells you everything that’s happened to the Queen and you’re suddenly not surprised that she cannot feel anything other then contempt for the world. The handmaiden says that even being with little Rickon is like a chore to their Queen. She even whispers that some believe the Queen considers Rickon as nothing more then property, for they say she’d bring the rains of the seven hells over anyone that dared harm him, but that she does not love him.

 

You see it the next day when you attend the feast Sansa holds once a moon in order to feed her people a proper meal. Rickon sits dutifully next to her, but he keeps his gaze on his hands, neither speaking with the other. In fact, Sansa seems rather bored and you want to scream that she still has family that needs her. When Rickon asks her if he may go and dance with one of the common girls she raises her hand in annoyance to dismiss him.

 

As time goes on, you settle into a life of running your sister’s Queensguard and training the younger boys to fight with a sword. You don’t bother your sister unless necessary and even then you try and avoid it. It isn’t until you decide to visit the crypts one night that you catch a glimpse into Sansa’s pain.

 

You travel the long and twisting path of the crypts, hoping to sit with Robb and your father for a small time before retiring to your bed. It takes you a moment realize the torches at the end of Robb’s tunnel are lit, and you have just enough time to hide away in the shadows.

 

You’re shocked to see Sansa sitting against the stone of the platform that holds Robb’s statue. She’s crying and for the first time you wonder if perhaps you are missing something.

 

Watching her makes your heart ache, but you remain hidden for fear she will turn angry if she sees you.

 

“Robb,” she whispers so silently you’d mistake it for a prayer if it was any other word, “I am sorry.”

 

You wonder why she’s apologizing.

 

“It is my fault you are dead. I should have never told Cersei father meant to take us home. I should have listened to you when you warned me that Joffrey was no good. I am so sorry,” she weeps, burying her face in her arms.

 

You want to wrap her up in your arms and whisper the words you know Robb would if he were here, but you don’t move.

 

“I want to be with you. I want to be with you. You were the King and you said I was meant to be Queen. We would have been glorious together, King and Queen of the North. We could have done it. The Targaryens did for years, we could have too.”

 

You freeze at her words. Does she mean what you think she means?

 

“Joffrey knew I think. He tortured me with it once you died. He would come up behind me and whisper that I was a whore for wanting my brother between my legs. He would torment me with your death at every turn of the day.”

 

She goes quiet for a long moment and you wonder if she’s readying herself mentally to leave, but she doesn’t move, and then she continues to speak.

 

“Rickon is with me, as you know I’m sure. He’s a motherless boy and I cannot bear to look at him. He’s growing to look so like you, yet he is myself as well. Sometimes I look at him and see you while other times, I see the son we could have had. No matter which, I cannot find it in me to love him. I cannot find it in me to love anyone anymore. Only you, always you,” she whispers, waiting another long moment before finally getting up. With red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, she reaches her hand forward to lightly stroke the stone of Robb’s cheek. “I _was_ always meant to be Queen, but you were supposed to be my King.”

 

You press yourself against the stone of the wall as she shuffles passed you towards the main hall of the crypts. It isn’t until she’s disappeared around the corner that you allow yourself to breath.

 

Everything makes sense now. You have not gone through half of what Sansa has, but you think that in addition to losing the love of your life (which you have) you would be just as hateful as her. It shocks you that her loving your shared brother doesn’t shock you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Instead you start a plan to help open Sansa’s heart, because Rickon needs her as much as she needs him. You are Starks, and together you survive.


End file.
